


Sweetness

by LittleHeroLady



Category: Fantasy - Fandom, Lore - Fandom, MCU, Marvel, The Punisher - Fandom
Genre: Completed, Drabble, F/M, Fairy!OC, Gen, I know it’s bad but I need to get into the writing groove, Marlo’s, Multi, Non-human OC - Freeform, Nostalgia, Other, Sun Fairy!OC, candy shop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:47:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26002162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleHeroLady/pseuds/LittleHeroLady
Summary: A sun fairy’s brief encounter with a vigilante.
Relationships: Everyone & OC, Frank Castle/Reader, Natasha Romanoff & OC, Sam Wilson/OC, frank castle/oc
Kudos: 3





	1. Chapter 1

When one thinks of candy stores, the next thought is almost always children. Though the thought is based in no logic, people almost always associate candy stores with children. 

At one time, candy shops were a novelty, a luxury, if you will — they were maintained by people with the knowledge and skill of the art form that is candy making. In recent years, candy shops have changed drastically. Now they were run by temperamental college-age people whose task was to refill the grimy bins with mass-produced sweets — Skittles, gummy bears, and Kinder eggs for example. 

But not Marlo’s. Marlo’s was one of the few remaining old-fashioned candy shops. All the treats were made in the kitchen at the back of the shop. They did their best to keep the ingredients as authentic as possible. They didn’t do deliveries, and they had no website or Facebook page. In short, Marlo’s was very word-of-mouth.

Despite what others might see as disadvantages to the business, the very nature of the shop kept Marlo’s afloat. It attracted different people wanting different, yet ultimately the same thing. It brought in hipsters wanting to experience what they saw as a better time; elderly folks nostalgic for their youth; couples desperately seeking quirky new dates to break monotony; shopaholics who couldn’t help but drop into a store they hadn’t yet been to; and sometimes just people who simply had a sweet tooth. 

Having a natural love for people, Arleigh loved her job. She didn’t necessarily love sweets, but the smell was pleasant and she made them well. 

As the bell let out a soft tinkle, she looked up from the register. Tucking back a curl that had came independent of her braids, she gave a bright smile to the two customers who just stepped in. 

“Welcome to Marlo’s. I’ll be right here if you need anything.”

The man smiled back and offered a “thanks.” The woman nodded her acknowledgment. 

Arleigh took a step back to the work surface and got to work painting the lollipops. Eyes on her work, she listened to the two converse. 

“So do you know what kind of candy they had in the forties?” The man asked. 

“Bucky said Steve never really had candy,” the woman answered, “so I don’t see why we have to only get old stuff.”

“Nat, do you know how hard it was to find this place? We’re not going to just get some Jelly Bellies and go. We’re going all out.”

Arleigh smiled to herself. She had recognized the woman when they stepped in. These customers were Avengers, and she could only assume they were getting something for the famed Captain America.

The man (who Arleigh regrettably did not recognize, despite knowing he was an Avenger) pulled out his phone. After a few moments, he spoke again. 

“Okay, so apparently there were these things called flying saucers, barley sugar twists, lemon sherbets, liquorice — classic, aaand cola cubes,” he told Natasha Romanoff. Looking up from his phone, he added, “Did you know Jolly Ranchers were around in the forties?” 

“No, Sam, I can’t say I’ve ever looked into candy history,” Natasha answered. 

Sam walked over to the counter. Having finished two already, Arleigh pushed another lollipop stick into the foam block so the edible paint could dry. 

“What can I do for you?” She asked Sam with a smile. 

“We were wondering if you had some of these,” he told her, turning his phone for her to see. Arleigh liked how easy this man returned a smile. 

“We have almost everything there,” she told him, eyes scanning the list. “We actually stopped making barley sugar twists a few years ago, but we have hard caramels, which are very similar.”

“Perfect! Could we get, how about . . . a pound of each?”

“And we’d like to pick out a few more things,” Natasha told her. 

“Of course. Tell me if you’d like to sample anything.” Arleigh got to work, getting the requested candy into clear bags and tying them off with thin yellow ribbons. With deft fingers and years of experience, this task took no time at all. Sam and Natasha came back to the counter, having selected various jelly candies. Arleigh rang them up and put their purchases in a paper bag.

“Have a nice day!” Sam called. Arleigh waved in response before going back to painting the lollipops. 

The rest of the day was quiet, with only a few customers. Then seven o’clock rolled around. After flipping the sign to ‘CLOSED’ she took inventory of all the jars that were running low. As she did this, she tossed the broom in front of her, where is sprung into action and began sweeping the slightly uneven wood floor. She threw a damp rag onto the counter, and it wiped down the surface on its own. 

She clipped the notepad to the board on the wall, and locked the cash register. Snapping her fingers twice, the broom and dustpan shut themselves in the closet and the rag put itself into the laundry bin. 

Arleigh grabbed her small crossbody purse and the shop key. She locked up and began the walk home. 

She was never a fan of the dark. She was someone who thrived on sunlight. Her kind would get extremely sick if they went too long without the sun. She honestly wondered why none of her family didn’t live in sunny places like California or Thailand. 

Arleigh was by no means intimidating. In her oversized sweater, skinny jeans and French braids one would mark her as an easy target. Surprisingly, she hadn’t been mugged a single time. She had a warm, calming aura, and people never seemed to want to bother her. 

Her walk home was short and relatively quiet. (It was as quiet as a walk in New York could be, what with the city sounds.) But as she inserted the key to her apartment into the keyhole, she felt that something was off. Listening carefully, she couldn’t hear anything. However the air smelled — tasted, even — wrong.

Arleigh quickly stepped in and locked the door behind her. She carefully looked around. It wasn’t until she stepped into her kitchen and set down her purse that she noticed the unconscious body on the floor. 

She forced the scream back down her throat, realizing she had to stay calm. The body — a big, burly man — was covered in cuts, scrapes, and blood. Kneeling by his head, she put her hand under his nose, moving it when she felt his faint breathing. 

She quickly retrieved a washcloth and some water and began to wipe the blood off his face. Gently tilting his head to the side, she put a pack of frozen peas on his bruised cheekbone. After wiping off his arms, she took off his shoes and pushed his shirt up. She wiped of his torso, then pressed the washcloth against a large gash in his side. 

Arleigh grabbed a bag from under her bathroom sink and pulled out a few supplies. She rubbed ointment over all of his scratches and smaller cuts. Then, from a small wooden box, she pulled a bit of dried leaves. She dipped her fistful of leaves into the water, then pulled out and began to rub the leaves. Once they were ground into a sort of paste, she spread it as gently as she could across the gash. 

It took some rummaging through cabinets, but she eventually found the large bandages. She put one across the herb-covered wound. 

After putting away her supplies and cleaning bloodstains off the floor and windowsill, Arleigh stepped back and looked at the man. She then realized there was no way she could move his body, and no longer felt bad about not having a couch to put him on. 

She grabbed a pillow off her own bed and spritzed it with a soothing, natural chamomile scent before carefully tucking it under the man’s head. Then she placed a blanket over him (one that she wouldn’t mind getting blood on, just in case). 

Knowing it would be a ridiculous, horrible idea to go to sleep with someone in her house, Arleigh grabbed a book and settled into the cocoon swing chair that passed as her furniture. 

Just to be safe, she texted Cole, asking him to take over the shop tomorrow as something came up. 

Now, all she could do was wait until the battered man woke up, and hope he didn’t kill her.


	2. Chapter 2

It was around four a.m. when the man began to stir. Marking her place with a yellow ribbon (her work seemed to follow her home) Arleigh gracefully got out of the cocoon swing chair and stepped lightly into the kitchen. She filled a glass with water, then added a pinch of an orange powder which immediately dissolved and turned clear. (Any fairy would know the powder had soothing properties, and made whatever beverage taste much better.)

When she turned back to the living room, the man’s eyes were blinking open. So as not to startle him, Arleigh waited until he was sitting up to step into his line of vision. 

The man’s eyes narrowed and he quickly stood up. Surprisingly, he didn’t deliver the classic “who are you?” line. 

Arleigh’s eyes briefly flickered to the large bloodstain the man had left on her floor. Deciding not to dwell on it, she held out the glass. 

“Water?” She offered. She saw distrust flicker in his eyes, and before he could speak she quickly added, “You dropped in here half dead; I’m not trying to drug you, honey.” 

The man grumbled something, but she ignored it. Instead she stepped forward to push the glass in his hands. “Just drink it, okay?”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” the man told her gruffly. 

Arleigh understood he must be confusing and aching. She didn’t know why he got beat up, but it didn’t really matter. 

“Do you want to shower or something? I can make you something to eat.”

The man stared at her blankly, before setting the glass down on her small side table. 

“I need to leave,” he said, making his way over to the door. 

“Okay, then,” Arleigh said, an amused smile playing on her lips. “Goodbye.”

The man left without another word. Arleigh didn’t mind. Humans were always strange.

Sipping the sweet water, she examined the bloodstain, thinking of how to get it out.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey so this is my very first work. Feedback (and /constructive/ criticism) are greatly appreciated. <3


End file.
